


Meaning It

by belmanoir



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Consensual Violence, Fix-It, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-Series, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-02
Updated: 2012-04-02
Packaged: 2017-11-02 22:57:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/374283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belmanoir/pseuds/belmanoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The only thing that had changed since he was eleven was Draco Malfoy, who had always been sleek and sharp and angry and now was quiet and pale and frayed around the edges.</p><p>Written for the_eros_affair. Prompt: <i>Harry to Draco: "I promise to dress as a Death Eater for you."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Meaning It

Sometimes Harry felt like nothing had changed. He had died and been reborn---and for what? Apparently so that wizards could keep right on hating each other, hating the Muggleborn, hating Dumbledore, hating goblins and house elves and werewolves and Slytherins. He had died and been reborn so there could be parades and show trials and Rita Skeeter columns about the new cult of Potter worship.

He thought that everything must be set forever, that he and Ginny would get married and so would Ron and Hermione, and in ten, twenty years, there would be a new Dark Wizard with a pureblood obsession and it would be their children who would be asked to fight and suffer and die so that nothing could change. He hated the idea of his son or daughter having to stand between innocents and the Dark. He wanted to have done that for them, and he knew he hadn't, he couldn't.

Nothing changes.

The only thing that had changed since he was eleven was Draco Malfoy, who had always been sleek and sharp and angry and now was quiet and pale and frayed around the edges. Harry sometimes wondered if that was what this thing with Malfoy was about: trying to change the pattern. If it was, he thought the attempt was probably doomed to failure. It was only another pattern, wasn't it? Look at Dumbledore and Grindelwald.

But then, Draco Malfoy was no Grindelwald. These days, he couldn't even kill spiders, though he was almost as scared of them as Ron. And when Harry---playing the gray-hatted anti-hero to make Draco feel less morally inferior---carelessly used the Killing Curse on the big one in the living room, Draco looked so shocked and white that Harry spent the evening being extra quiet and gentle and setting up their new Wizarding television, which was three dimensional and incorporated your furniture into the action.

###

"I'm going to be gone tonight," Draco said. "I'm taking the train to London to pick up my new wand."

The idea of sleeping without Draco made Harry surprisingly uncomfortable. He liked the way Draco pressed against him when he tightened his arms, as if Draco were trying to fill the empty place where the piece of Tom Riddle's soul had been---even if Harry knew it was just that Draco got cold easily. "Can't you Floo, or Portkey?"

"You know I'm not allowed to use the Floo," Draco said, which was true, because Draco was on probation. "And I don't like Portkeys. They--" He hesitated, looking at Harry. "I don't like trusting someone else's magic," he said at last, and Harry wondered if Draco was thinking of the Triwizard Tournament. "I could make one myself, but then it would take just as long as the train."

Harry shrugged. "Whatever," he said. "If you wake me up tomorrow morning, I'll Apparate you there."

It wasn't until they were mobbed by reporters in Ollivander's waiting room that Harry realized the flaw in this plan. "This is going to be all over the press tomorrow," he said. "I'm really sorry. Your parents aren't going to be upset that we're...um...rooming together, are they?"

Draco flicked him a surprised glance. "They already know," he said. "They were a bit concerned I was doing it to help with their defense, but other than that they don't care. You saved my life at Hogwarts, parents like stuff like that."

"Their defense?" Harry asked, surprised. "Are they being prosecuted?" He knew it was foolish of him, but in his mind the Malfoys were almost harmless. He never thought about Lucius Malfoy in the graveyard or the Ministry; he always pictured the little family huddling uncertainly in the Great Hall after the Battle of Hogwarts, wandless.

Draco rolled his eyes. "And that's why they're idiots. But 'we're just fucking, he doesn't actually _care_ about me' doesn't go over well with parents, I've noticed."

Harry felt a little horrified. "But...what did you tell them?"

"I told them I was doing it to help with _my_ defense," Draco said. "To which they said they would hire me a lawyer, to which I replied that our accounts are frozen and also, this is cheaper. Plus I get sex." He smiled at Harry, who tried to look as if he thought this was funny.

After Ollivander's, they wandered down Diagon Alley. Every shop had once seemed so full of wonder. They didn't anymore. Harry supposed he ought to buy a new owl, but he didn't want to. "Let's stop in at Flourish & Blotts," Draco said.

The bookstore made Harry think of Lucius Malfoy slipping Ginny the first Horcrux. Draco hardly ever seemed to want anything, though, so he agreed. But he couldn't help feeling relieved when a familiar voice called out, "Oi, Harry!" before they could get more than a few steps towards the bookstore.

"George!" Harry said. "How's business!"

"Come see!" George told him. "We've got a whole new line in for Halloween!"

Harry glanced guiltily at Draco.

"Go along," Draco said with a tiny smile. "I know reading hurts your brain."

"Shut up," Harry said, smiling back. "Come and find me when you're done, all right?"

"A---all right," Draco said, his eyes flickering to George. "I---see you in a bit then." And he turned abruptly and strode off.

Harry wasn't sure what that was about until he turned and saw George staring after Malfoy with a very cold expression on his face. "What are you doing with him?" George asked.

"We're, um, he's my---roommate," Harry said.

George's mouth twisted. "You're rooming with _that?_ "

"Yes," Harry said, feeling tired. "And don't even think about slipping him a Puking Pastille."

"How about a Ton-Tongue Toffee?" George asked, grinning, but Harry didn't like his expression.

"Not anything," he said firmly. "How's the rest of the family?"

George shrugged and let him change the subject.

At Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, George's new line of products seemed more...vicious, somehow, than his old ones. Or maybe Harry was simply older, and less inclined to laugh at someone choking on his own tongue. But he kept on determinedly chatting about business and his plans for Auror training and Ginny's trip to Romania to visit Charlie until a whisper went around the store and Harry looked up to see Draco staring at a rack of Death Eater Halloween costumes.

He couldn't quite identify the look on Draco's face, but Harry blushed for George anyway. He vaguely remembered Hermione and Ron arguing about this, Hermione saying shrilly, "It's in bad taste, Ron, capitalizing on the War that way, it's only been a few months---"

Everyone was staring at Draco. He could hear murmurs of Draco's name all around the store, and instinctively Harry marched over and---well, the same furious part of him that had never been able to just take it when Malfoy insulted him at school wanted to kiss Draco hello, or grab his hand. But George would tell Ginny, and Harry wasn't sure he was ready for that.

Instead he said, "Hey, how was the bookstore?" real loud. The whispers died out and then redoubled, but it was surprisingly easier to accept when he knew Malfoy wasn't going to be writing a song about it later. Harry pictured a little badge flashing _Potter Fucks Death Eaters_ and smiled.

Draco looked up at him, startled, and said, "It was fine." He caught the smile and added, "They told me Hogwarts is going to use Professor Snape's book next year."

It had been Hermione's idea to edit a new Potions textbook based on the Half-Blood Prince's notes, and she'd written most of the "Foreword by Harry Potter" on Snape's life, too. But something inside Harry had loosened when he'd seen _Brewing Glory: Potion Secrets of Severus Snape_ neatly embossed in silver on a green leather cover, and opened the book to see a reproduction of Snape's Hogwarts portrait sneering at him. Harry smiled wider at Draco. "That's wonderful. I--I think Snape would be pleased. Don't you?"

He and Draco continued to make awkward conversation under George's watchful eye. Draco kept glancing at the imitation Death Eater robes, and once or twice Harry caught Draco's eyes measuring him in a way that made Harry wonder uneasily if Draco were trying to determine his robe size.

When Draco's eyes flickered to the black-and-silver robes the tenth time, George said meanly, "Don't you already have a set, Malfoy?"

"Yes, but I haven't anything to wear when the house elves are cleaning them," Malfoy flashed, looking like his old self for a second.

Somehow that and the look on George's face, as if he were about to say something much worse, made Harry feel reckless. "It's true, he doesn't," he said. "That's why I pay Kreacher to take his time with the Ironing Charms. Bye, George." He didn't wait for George to answer, just grabbed Draco's hand and pulled him out of the store.

###

On Monday, Harry stumbled out of bed a bit after noon to find Draco on the sofa watching Celestina Warbeck's hit sitcom.

"Why aren't you at school?" he asked blearily. "It's too early for Christmas vacation, isn't it?"

"I dropped out," Draco said, and Incendio'd his stack of medimagical textbooks. The fire turned his white-blond hair golden. "Fuck," he said, smothering the flames with a quick wave of his new wand. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry---"

Harry shrugged, walking through Celestina and smoke to pour himself a cup of coffee. "I thought you had decided Healing was your thing."

"I don't have the stomach for it," Draco said in a flat little voice, finally meeting Harry's eyes.

"What does your therawizard say?" Harry asked.

"I fired her." Now Draco was watching the soap again.

"I thought you liked her."

"She was using Occlumency on me," Draco said. "Besides, she suggested I---" He glanced at Harry and fell silent. "She kept telling me I needed to express my anger," he said finally. The corner of his mouth quirked up. "I tried to explain that with me it's kind of the opposite. I don't think she got it."

Harry looked at the smoldering textbooks. He didn't say anything.

"I mean, she wanted me to Crucio a pillow!" Draco blurted out. "How lame is that?"

Harry blinked. "Isn't that technically illegal?"

"Don't tell Granger," Draco said. "I don't want my therawizard picketed by a pillow protection league with a vomit-inspired name."

"P.U.K.E.," Harry suggested. "The Pillow Unforgivable, um..."

Trying to think of K-words only distracted Draco from his existential pain for about five minutes. Sex, on the other hand, worked for nearly three-quarters of an hour. Harry hoped it worked, anyway. Sometimes he thought Draco was worse during sex. He was always so... _gentle._ Tender. Slow. As if he were afraid he'd hurt Harry if he wasn't very careful. And Draco was so thin and fragile-looking that Harry was afraid he might actually break, if Harry wasn't very careful back.

###

Harry had to go to the Ministry the next day anyway. He stopped by Kingsley Shacklebolt's office. They made the usual small talk, which neither of them was very good at: how little Teddy Lupin had grown himself green fur and refused to retract it, how Luna Lovegood had somehow sneaked into the Department of Mysteries and stolen the files on the Gnargle infestation in this year's mistletoe crop while she was visiting Percy Weasley last week, how...it trailed off quickly. There were so few members of the Order left to gossip about.

"Kingsley, I heard the Malfoys are being prosecuted. You know Narcissa Malfoy saved my life. I'd like to testify."

Kingsley's eyebrows shot up. "So it's true, then."

"What's true?" Harry asked, telling himself he had no reason to feel flustered.

In answer, Kingsley tossed Harry a copy of the _Prophet_. On the front page was a picture of Harry and Draco in front of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes that weekend, Harry still holding Draco's hand and leaning close. All he'd done, damn it, was ask Draco if he was ready to Apparate home. But somehow the Harry in the picture kept reaching out to tuck Draco's hair behind his ear, running his thumb soothingly over Draco's wrist just inside the sleeve that hid his Dark Mark. And the Draco in the picture was looking at Harry like Harry was the Savior of the Wizarding World. Harry cursed. Evidently they'd invented some photographic equivalent of the Quick Quotes Quill. He should be glad it wasn't worse. Then it hit him.

Ginny was going to see this. Worse, _Ron_ was going to see this.

"Fuck," he said. "Listen, Kingsley, that's not why I'm here. Narcissa Malfoy risked everything to help me, and I want to testify."

"There'll be no need for that," Kingsley said, and Harry's heart sank. Had they been tried already? "I'm sure I can get them released."

"Kingsley, I only said I wanted to testify! I'm not asking---"

"It's all right, Harry," Kingsley said with a smile that made Harry's skin crawl. "The Wizarding world wants you to be happy. And of course, I know how much you care about the Wizarding world. As you know, my time as interim Minister of Magic is almost at an end. My chief competitor for the post appears to be Arthur Weasley. A fine man, Arthur, but so impractical. Perhaps you might let it be known that you support my renewed appointment? I know that many within the Ministry take your opinions very seriously, as do I. And I know that Arthur is very bitter against the Malfoys."

It was Scrimgeour all over again. "I only came here to offer my testimony, Kingsley," he said, trying to hold on to his temper. "I told you I don't want to get involved in Ministry politics. You're a great minister, but Ron's my friend and Mr. Weasley's been waiting his whole life for a shot like this. Besides, Mr. Weasley wouldn't be unfair to the Malfoys."

"Wouldn't he?" Kingsley said, steepling his fingers together and gazing at Harry impassively.

"No!" Harry snapped. "Tell me when the Malfoys' trials are scheduled so I can be sure to attend." But as he slammed the door, he kept picturing Mr. Weasley and Lucius Malfoy brawling in Flourish and Blotts. What had Lupin said? That Harry was like his father, too ready to turn a blind eye to his friends' faults? But Ron would be so proud to see his father Minister, and the Weasleys all missed Fred so much. It would be nice for them to have a stroke of luck.

Surely Mr. Weasley would be fair.

###

That night, Draco looked a little paler than usual, and he was more than usually polite at dinner. Harry wondered uneasily what the matter was. Did Draco know about the article? Did he know Arthur Weasley might be the next Minister of Magic? Harry was working up his courage to ask when Ron's voice shouted Harry's name from the living room. Harry raced into the next room to find Ron's face in the fireplace.

"Hey, Ron---" was as far as Harry got.

"He's done something to you, hasn't he?" Ron demanded. "The slimy git's given you a love potion or something! Harry---"

"He hasn't, Ron," Harry said. "I should have told you. But he hasn't done anything to me. He's--he's changed."

"Well, that's exactly what you'd say if he had, isn't it?" Ron said. "He always was good at Potions, I bet he---"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Ron," Harry snapped. "He hasn't given me a love potion because _I don't love him,_ we just---" Ron waited, but Harry didn't know how to finish the sentence.

"You're just fucking, is that it?" Ron asked finally.

Harry didn't answer.

"Well, I think that's sick!" Ron said, flushing. "I'm not surprised at him, whoring himself out since he can't get to Daddy's money anymore, but you---"

"Shut up, Ron!" Harry said sharply. "He hasn't asked for anything from me, all right?"

"He will," Ron said in a hard voice. "Malfoys never do anything for free. He still has some money left. But my dad says that should run out any day now."

"How does he know that?" Harry demanded, his heart sinking.

"Because he's following the Malfoy case very closely," Ron said, confirming Harry's suspicions. "He was going to ask you to testify about seeing Lucius Malfoy slip Ginny the diary, but I suppose that's off now."

Harry shot a nervous glance in the direction of the dining room. "I'm afraid so, Ron," he said. "I'm sorry, I just---I don't think Lucius Malfoy even knew what the diary was. If he had he would never have let it out of his possession."

"It doesn't matter," Ron said coldly. "Plenty of people saw him in the Ministry fifth year. That should be enough to get him the Kiss. Maybe that bitch wife of his will get off with a life sentence to Azkaban---"

"The Kiss? They're going to be giving Death Eaters the Kiss? Ron, Dumbledore hated Dementors---"

"I don't think any of us knew what Dumbledore really thought about anything," Ron said flatly. "Anyway, Dumbledore's dead. So is Fred, or don't you remember? And Fred would want revenge."

"The Malfoys weren't even at the Battle of Hogwarts!" Harry insisted. "None of them even had a _wand_ then---"

"If they had, you can bet they'd have been in the thick of it watching out for anyone with red hair," Ron snapped.

Harry didn't know if that was true. It might be. "So many people died, Ron. I don't think killing Draco's parents will help anyone."

"It will help my family!" Ron said. "That trial's about the only thing that can make my dad look cheerful any more! Look, Harry, I know you have a thing about orphans, but the Malfoys have had it in for us for as long as anyone can remember. My whole life Malfoy's dad used his influence at the Ministry to keep my dad in his dead-end job. Malfoy's been treating me like I was the dirt under his feet since the day I met him, just because we're poor and don't want to kill Muggles. Well, now _my_ dad's got influence at the Ministry, and everyone sees his dad for the Death Eater scum he is, and it's our turn! When Dad's Minister he'll see to it that Lucius Malfoy gets what's coming to him! Let's see how Malfoy likes wearing second-hand robes and hearing people make jokes about his dead dad!"

There was a long, unhappy pause, while Harry thought that Kingsley had been right.

"Malfoy hasn't changed," Ron said finally. "You have. You hated Malfoy! How can you just stop?"

"I don't know, Ron. Sometimes I think it was Voldemort who hated Malfoy all along, and now that the piece of his soul is gone---" He wasn't sure, though. He had begun to stop hating Malfoy long before that. It had started in the bathroom, he thought, when he had seen Malfoy crying.

"Was it Voldemort who liked Ginny, too?" Ron asked nastily.

There was a terrible moment while Harry tried to think of something to say that wasn't _I've been wondering that too._ That feeling she had provoked in him, like a monster in his chest was looking at Ginny and saying _Mine_ \---he had assumed it was just teenage hormones, but maybe not...either way, she did not make him feel like that now.

Ron turned scarlet.

"Please, Ron, just let it go!" Harry said desperately. "You've been feuding forever, isn't that long enough? Take the moral high ground, for fuck's sake! As a favor to me---"

"How dare you?" Ron hissed. "Ginny's been crying all day! Everything I've done has been for you, my whole fucking life has been for you, the goddamn Chosen One! Now you'll happily let us find out from the _Daily Prophet_ that you've dumped my sister and are fucking someone who _poisoned me_ and you reckon I owe you something? Fuck you!" His face vanished.

Harry went back into the kitchen, but Draco wasn't there anymore. How long had he been talking to Ron? How much had Draco heard?

Suddenly Kreacher popped out of nowhere. "Please, Master Harry!" the elf said desperately. "Master Draco is packing his trunk---" Harry Apparated into the bedroom, catching his breath when he saw Malfoy was still there.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked around the lump in his throat.

"Please don't be generous," Draco said, his eyes on the socks he was shoving into the corners of his trunk. "I'll be all right."

"Listen," Harry said. "I know Ron said some things that were out of line, you've a right to be angry, but he's just upset, you did kind of pick on him at school---"

Draco looked up, startled. "I'm not angry," he said flatly. "It's my own fault if Weasley hates me, and I've known for years my dad would probably get the Kiss in the end. I just figured you'd want me to leave. Weasley's right about the money. I can't make rent this month. I was going to tell you at dinner---"

"I---why would I want you to leave?" Harry asked, genuinely puzzled. "I can afford to spot you a couple months' rent."

Draco stared at him. "Weasley's furious," he said. "And he's your best mate."

It was true. Harry didn't know what to say, except that he didn't want Draco to go. "Well, sure, but---"

"And he and Granger are together, aren't they?" Draco said quietly. "Sometimes---sometimes when you lose one friend, another one goes too. You can't---" His hands were shaking.

The idea of losing Ron and Hermione was terrifying. And Draco would know---he'd lost Crabbe, and Harry hadn't seen hide nor hair of Goyle in the months he and Draco had been living together.

At least Ron was alive.

"I'll be okay," Harry said. "Come on and finish dinner." He was relieved when Draco obediently followed him into the kitchen. "Your dad's not going to get the Kiss," he said after a few minutes.

Draco looked unconvinced. Instead of replying, he asked, "Weasley will get over it eventually, won't he?"

Harry chewed his lip. "He'd get over _this,_ " he said. After all, he and Ron had stopped speaking to each other at least once a year since first year. "But I'm not sure he'll ever get over what I'm going to do tomorrow."

Draco didn't ask.

###

On Wednesday, Harry went back to Kingsley Shacklebolt's office. On Thursday, the front page of the Daily Prophet screamed, "LUNA LOVEGOOD INTERVIEWS HARRY POTTER: BOY WHO LIVED SUPPORTS KINGSLEY SHACKLEBOLT FOR MINISTER!"

On Friday, the Malfoys were released from prison and their accounts unfrozen.

Harry, uneasy in spite of himself about Ron's "whoring himself out since he can't get to Daddy's money anymore," was relieved when Draco didn't promptly move out.

Draco never talked to Harry about any of it, but he bought some new clothes and started actually eating some of the fattening food Kreacher kept preparing for him. He also let Harry fuck him. Harry tried to be gentle and go slow.

###

It was almost Christmas. Harry had asked Draco what he wanted, three times. The first two times, Draco had said he didn't need a present. The third time, he had said, "Surprise me." Harry had no idea what Draco might like. He remembered the furtive desire in Draco's eyes when he looked at those Death Eater robes, but what if Harry were wrong? It would be awfully embarrassing. He and Draco had never done anything like that in bed. They'd never even used Binding Charms. Besides, he still didn't understand what the Death Eaters meant to Draco. They terrified him, didn't they? And yet Draco had been fascinated by those robes, and Harry didn't think it had all been horror.

Still, if Draco had been wanking off to Death Eaters the way Harry had to pro Quidditch players, Harry wasn't sure he wanted to know about it. Even more unwelcome was the idea that Draco might have a specific Death Eater in mind. He'd always been a little too close to Blaise Zabini, Harry thought irritably.

But the week before Christmas, Harry was getting desperate. Finally he went to see George.

"That's disgusting," George said coldly. Harry was just relieved George hadn't shut the door in his face. "You dumped Ginny for someone who wants you to wear _that?_ "

"I broke up with Ginny a long time ago, George," Harry said, annoyed in spite of---or maybe because of---his guilt. "Are you going to sell me the costume or not?"

"I suppose it's money," George said, and started wrapping up the robes. "We could use some of that these days. Since you sunk Dad's first chance at a promotion in twenty years."

"If you tell anyone I bought this," Harry said, "I'll tell everyone about the Wizard Wheezes jokes the Death Eaters were torturing people with. The ones your dad hushed up when he searched Malfoy Manor. I think people might feel a bit differently about Garroting Gas if they knew the uses Voldemort was putting it to."

George finished wrapping in tight-lipped silence.

###

Draco froze when he opened the package. "Didn't we go over this?" he asked finally. "I already have a set."

"I know," Harry said. "I---that is, maybe I was stupid, but---they're for me. I saw you looking and---and I will if you want me to."

"You're batty, Potter," Draco said in the same shaky, pissed-off voice he used for _I was just dreaming about your face_ when Harry would shake him out of a screaming nightmare.

Harry felt a little foolish, a little annoyed, and a lot sure he had been right. "Well, just keep it, and if you change your mind..." he said.

"Shoddy knock-off," Draco muttered, which told Harry how rattled he was. These days it seemed like Draco's temper was all but burned out of him. "My father wouldn't be caught dead in a Transfigured Wool blend."

###

Normally Harry would have gone to the Burrow for Christmas Eve, but this year he wasn't invited. Hermione had offered to stay home with Harry, but Harry had remembered the locket and Ron's jealousy, and said no. Hermione's relief had been painfully obvious.

"Do you want to come to the Manor?" Draco asked. "My parents would like to meet you."

"I've met your parents, Draco," Harry pointed out.

Draco flushed. "Meet you properly, then. I know you probably have other plans. I don't care one way or the other, but they asked. It's all right, it would probably be horribly awkward anyway. Never mind." Which meant Draco wanted him to come. If he hadn't, he would have gone out of his way to convince Harry that he did want him, to spare Harry's feelings.

"No, I'll come," Harry said. "I haven't other plans, as it happens."

###

The Manor had become familiar to Harry over a year of visions, but it had always been _full._ Bustling. Now the rooms seemed strange and too empty. Dusty, too. The chandelier hadn't been replaced since Dobby smashed it. Narcissa showed Harry to a blue guest room.

"Not the Silver Room?" Draco asked. "You gave Pansy the Silver Room."

"He'll be more comfortable in the Blue Room," Narcissa said shortly.

"You do realize we both have our Apparating licenses, don't you?" Draco asked with affectionate sarcasm.

"Dinner's at six," she said with a tiny smile at Draco. "I'll leave you alone to freshen up."

"My room's at the other end of the house," Draco explained when she was gone. "The Silver Room is right next door. It's also a lot bigger."

"This is loads more comfortable than where I stayed the last time I was here," Harry said.

"I'm sorry," Draco said. "This was a terrible idea."

"Hey," Harry said softly, "as long as they don't try to kill me, we're all right."

"Well, now you've jinxed us," Draco said, but he was smiling.

The food at dinner was burned, as if the house elves had stopped caring what their masters thought. Narcissa, nearly as thin as Draco, seemed embarrassingly eager not to offend, and Lucius barely spoke. He did, however, keep starting to press his Dark Mark every time he looked round and saw Harry. Then he'd realize what he was doing and start fiddling with his hair.

"How is Pansy?" Narcissa asked finally.

"Pansy's dating Greg," Draco said. "She thinks I'm a blood traitor."

"She said that?" There was real shock in Narcissa's voice.

"Yeah," Draco said indifferently. "I don't care, Mother, honest---"

"I may need to have a chat with that girl," she said coldly. "It wouldn't hurt her to learn some manners. Or rather, in this case, it will."

Harry agreed completely.

"Leave Pansy alone!" Draco said, his voice rising. "How can you _say_ that? Mrs. Parkinson is your best friend!"

"Please, Draco, don't upset yourself," Narcissa said, her tone softening. "Of course I won't do anything you wouldn't like."

"You can't just go around threatening to torture people," Draco said, agitated. "Don't you care that it would hurt her?"

There was silence.

"The Dark Lord never cared about us," Draco said bitterly. "And we were so scared of him, we forgot to care about each other. Didn't you see that? They had losses, sure, but not as bad as ours, because they watched each other's backs! Meanwhile we were all scrabbling to protect ourselves, to see who could turn Potter over to the Dark Lord, using each other's children as pawns---"

Harry found it hard to believe that Lucius Malfoy was going to let this slide, but when he looked at Draco's father the man was playing with the straggly ends of his hair.

"Well, you know what they say---Hell hath no fury," Narcissa said with a sniff when Draco finally subsided. "Last time I talked to Pansy, she was already picking out names for your children."

"You're joking," Draco said.

"Not in the least. Scorpius for a boy and Tarantula for a girl, believe it or not."

"God," Draco said feelingly.

 _Wait till I tell Ron,_ Harry thought, and then realized he might never tell Ron anything again. "Excuse me," he said.

He lingered in the bathroom as long as he could, staring at his scar in the mirror. He had always thought, in some part of his mind, that it would disappear when he defeated Voldemort. It hadn't.

Finally he couldn't delay any longer. He was making his way back to the dining room when he heard raised voices. "I'm worried about you, Draco, the boy's bad luck--" Narcissa was saying.

"Only if you piss him off," Draco said lightly.

"It seems to me," Narcissa said, "that my family died whether they stood with Potter or against him. Bella, Regulus, Sirius, Andromeda's girl---"

"Yes, and Aunt Bella killed half of them," Draco snapped.

"She was ill," Narcissa said. "She was---"

"I know, Mother," Draco said softly. "I---you should owl Aunt Andromeda. You should meet Teddy, Harry says he's the cutest little---"

"Werepup?" she inquired icily. "I'm sure my sister has her hands full raising _that_ without a visit from her disgraced sister." Harry saw red, but more than he wanted to wring her neck he wanted to know what Draco would say.

"Mother, I know you miss her," Draco said quietly.

"She won't want to see me," Narcissa said.

"She _will_ , she---"

"She won't," Narcissa said with finality. "If you had died and her girl were alive, I wouldn't want to see her." Draco didn't answer, and in a moment Narcissa began again, her voice querulous and unhappy. "Our family lost everything and what has Potter lost? He's brushed off the Killing Curse twice now. He leads a charmed life while everyone around him dies!"

"I know," Draco said. "But Mother, he did lose something. When he died---I don't know what it is, he won't talk about it, but it's something. He's miserable. He has worse nightmares than I do. Last night---sometimes I think he's only with me because he thinks I might kill him."

Harry started. He had forgotten last night's dream. It was the worst nightmare he had had in weeks: as always, he'd seen the flayed baby he'd left on the ground in King's Cross Station.

This time it had stood in the doorway of his room and spoken to him in Parseltongue. He hadn't been able to understand it anymore, of course, but he knew what it was saying. _Why did you leave me?_ it had wanted to know. _Parents shouldn't leave their kids unless they've got to._ He'd woken up---he was mortified to remember it now---clutching at Draco, saying, "I've got to go back, send me back," and when Draco, pale and sleepy in the moonlight, had asked where, Harry had said, "The Killing Curse, I know you want to---"

"In that case," Lucius Malfoy said wryly, breaking in on Harry's thoughts, "he doesn't know you very well, does he?"

There was silence. Harry went back into the room and tried to look as if he hadn't heard anything, but all through the rest of the meal he thought about Narcissa's outburst. If, instead of killing the Horcruxes, Harry had been able to find a way to put them back together---if he could have repaired Tom Riddle's soul, if he had picked up that poor flayed baby and tried to heal it instead of talking to Dumbledore---would that have made the Wizarding world whole again? Instead, it seemed as if the War had ripped them all into pieces: all the families, all the souls.

That night, Harry sat in his room and wondered if Draco would really come. Sooner even than he had hoped, there was a sharp pop and Draco Apparated into his room. Harry took a relieved step towards him, and Draco shoved something into Harry's arms. "Put them on," he said. "I'll be back in five minutes." And he Disapparated.

It was the Wizard Wheezes box. Harry put on the robes, not sure whether to feel anxious or anticipatory. He carefully moistened the Edible Dark Mark and flattened it against his forearm. In a moment it looked as real and permanent as Draco's. It writhed and bulged, and Harry wondered, if he were still a Parselmouth, if he could have spoken to it. He was still staring at it, the mask under his arm, when Draco reappeared in his own Death Eater robes.

Draco recoiled when he saw Harry. "Put on the mask," he said harshly, even though he wasn't wearing his own.

Harry obeyed, wondering what exactly Draco wanted from this. He was glad to see that the mask was enchanted to be transparent from the inside, so he didn't have to worry about the eyeholes.

"Do you have a safeword?" Draco asked him.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Choose a word," Draco said. "You can say it at any point, and I'll stop. Otherwise, I won't." He cast a Silencing Charm on the walls, and Harry's cock jumped.

"Fawkes," Harry said, and then felt foolish. But it was obvious the name meant nothing to Draco, and Draco didn't ask. Instead he pulled out his wand and murmured a Binding Charm. Abruptly ropes grew from a clear patch of wall, reaching out for Harry's wrists and ankles and yanking him hard against the wall. Harry gasped, staring at Draco, his heart pounding.

He didn't expect what happened next. Draco reached out, expressionless, and cast so quietly that Harry couldn't hear what he said. And then Harry couldn't hear anything at all. He was completely deaf.

"What---" he began, and saw Draco's mouth framing the words _Shut up!_ , so familiar on those lips. He couldn't help the shiver that ran through him or the way his blood ran faster.

But instead of moving towards him, Draco began to talk. Harry recognized a few words---"Dark Lord," "Snape," and several times, to his surprise, even his own name. Soon Draco was screaming, his face blotchy, tears running down his face, and Harry was surprised Draco hadn't blinded him too, that Draco was letting him see this. Draco's mouth formed, very clearly, the words _Look what you've done,_ and then his hand abruptly whipped out and backhanded Harry so hard he saw stars.

Harry gasped, and then Draco was on him, hitting him again and again, driving his fist solidly into Harry's stomach, punching Harry in the face until blood started to fill his mouth. Harry closed his eyes, tightened his muscles, tried not to scream with pain, and thought _Fawkes_ but didn't say it because this was Draco, finally this was Draco. Harry felt awake as he hadn't in months, he was _here,_ not trapped in a spectral train station---then abruptly there was nothing, and Harry opened his eyes in time to see Draco, tears streaming down his face, cast _Crucio._

Nothing happened, and the look of rage and betrayal on Draco's face had been familiar in school but it wasn't anymore. Harry wanted very badly to know if he really was immune to Unforgivables now, or if Draco hadn't meant it. " _Crucio,_ " Draco cast again, his hand shaking, and Harry realized that they weren't students anymore, and that Draco knew plenty of curses that would hurt Harry without having to mean it in the least.

Harry screamed, throwing his head back and arching his body as if the Unforgivable had worked.

It was only a few seconds before Draco lowered his wand. Harry sagged against the wall, aching everywhere, and felt the rope around his wrists and ankles uncoil. Draco lifted the mask off, carefully, and began methodically healing each of Harry's injuries, kissing the new skin gently, his wand whispering over Harry's skin as the tears dried on Draco's face. He was still speaking, but Harry couldn't hear him. Draco pulled off the robes to heal the bruises on Harry's chest and stomach. One of them spread below the waistline of Harry's slacks, and Draco reached for Harry's belt.

Harry tried to pull away, but it was too late. Draco stared in shock at Harry's erection.

"Sorry," Harry said, glad he at least didn't have to hear his own voice as he babbled. "I'm sorry, I know it's sick, I guess I just---I just miss how you used to be."

Draco said something.

"I can't hear you," Harry reminded him, and with an impatient flick of his wrist Draco lifted the spell.

"You miss how I used to be when, precisely?" Draco said, something hard and twisted in his voice that Harry didn't understand but that turned him on anyway, and what was _wrong_ with him? "When I was trying to kill you, your friends, and the Headmaster? Then, perhaps?"

"Yes," Harry said, frightened by the look on Draco's face and by what he'd just revealed but determined not to back down. "Draco, I know I shouldn't be turned on when you're so upset." He slid down the wall, gingerly, and tried to think how to say this. After a moment Draco came and sat next to him. "It's just---we never used to hold back with each other," Harry said carefully. "I know I'm not saying it right, but don't you remember how it used to be? I mean, you hated me and I don't want that again, but---you hated me more than anyone in the world. You wanted to hurt me more than anything on earth, it felt like we were the only two people alive---" He wished Draco hadn't lifted the Charm, so that he didn't have to hear the desperation in his own voice.

"Yeah," Draco said, "just me, you, and the five people who were helping you beat the crap out of me."

"Fuck," Harry said. _Your father would never attack me unless it was four on one, what would you call him, I wonder?_ "Draco, I'm sorry---"

"No," Draco said quietly. "It's okay. I do remember. I lived for that moment when I could feel you focus on me completely, when I became the only thing that mattered to you." He laughed humorlessly. "Sick, right?"

Harry shrugged. "I know it's not what you want anymore. And I like you fine the way you are now---"

"Yeah, right," Draco snorted. "I'm an emotional cripple."

"Well, maybe," Harry conceded. "But you're a very sexy emotional cripple. And I still have trouble focusing on anything else when you're in the room."

"Really?" Draco asked, sounding more surprised than Harry would have expected.

Harry nodded.

"This is so fucking sick," Draco said, and murmured a charm under his breath, too low to make out.

"I'm sorry," Harry said again, staring at the floor.

Draco didn't answer. Harry looked over to see Draco polishing something on his robes. Then Draco pinned it on and stood up. Harry recognized it at once: Draco's Inquisitorial Squad badge.

Harry stood up too, fast.

Draco threw back his head and looked down his nose at Harry, and Harry almost forgot to notice how white and shaken Draco still looked. "Well, well, Potter," he drawled, and Harry felt it in every nerve ending. "I might have known."

Draco let a smirk spread across his face, and it was almost like school again, except that now Harry knew what Draco looked like naked, and the noises Draco made when he came. "Malfoy," he said raggedly.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter," Draco murmured.

"What--- _why?_ " Harry demanded.

The smirk widened. "Because I don't like you."

"How dare you---" Harry took a step toward Draco, his hands balled into fists, and found the tip of Draco's wand pressing against his throat. Harry's erection sprang enthusiastically back to life.

"Now, now," Draco said. "Do you want me to take another fifty points for threatening me?"

There it was, that perfect focus, their eyes trained on each other as if they could set each other on fire just by looking. "You'll be sorry," Harry promised. "You caught me without a wand this time, but next time---"

"Yes, next time I'm sure you'll bring a dozen of your little Gryffindor friends to hex me into unrecognizability," Draco snapped, pressing his wand harder into Harry's neck. Harry swallowed convulsively. "Shameless bullies, the lot of you."

" _You_ should talk---" Harry began hotly.

"Another fifteen points for backtalk!"

Harry slammed Draco's wand aside and shoved him against the wall. "That's not fair," he hissed, his mouth inches from Draco's.

"Oh, I'm always fair," Draco said coolly, but the pulse at the base of his throat beat hard and fast. "That's why I'm offering you the chance to win all those points back."

"You are?"

Draco gave Harry a smile as slow-acting and poisonous as snake venom. "Get on your knees, Potter."

A shockwave of pure lust tore through Harry. "Bite me, Malfoy!" he snapped.

Draco's eyes gleamed. "Later," he promised. He reached out and, with a hand flat against Harry's shoulder, pushed him sharply down.

Harry winced as his knees hit the floor. He glared up at Draco.

Draco's face was flushed and eager. "Go on, suck me," he said harshly.

Harry gave up all pretence of reluctance. He scrabbled desperately at Draco's robes, unbuttoning his slacks and shoving aside his underwear.

Draco, breathing hard and trembling under Harry's hands, started another wisecrack.

" _Shut up, Malfoy._ " Draco hissed in a breath, and Harry swallowed Draco's cock.

Draco gasped and surged forward, cursing. Harry held Draco against the wall, his hands pressing into Draco's hips. It was greedy and messy and loud and fierce, and then Draco reached down and grabbed the back of Harry's head, holding him in place while Draco thrust forward again and again. When Draco came with a strangled shout, Harry almost choked.

"Oh my God," Harry sputtered when he had managed to swallow most of Draco's come. He couldn't remember ever being quite so turned on. He reached for his own cock.

Draco said sharply, "Get up."

Harry did.

Draco's eyes were bright and his cheeks were flushed. "God, you look debauched," he drawled. He put his hand on the front of Harry's slacks and squeezed, hard. Harry nearly came on the spot. Draco smiled. "Who knew the Boy Who Lived was such a slut? What would Granger and the Weasel say if they knew how much you liked sucking my cock, I wonder?" He unzipped Harry's fly again, and Harry closed his eyes as Draco's hand wrapped around his aching cock.

"Look at me," Draco said sharply and tugged, hard.

Harry obeyed, gazing helplessly into Draco's bright grey eyes as he shuddered and gasped and held onto Draco's shoulders hard enough to leave bruises. It only took a few brutal strokes before Harry was coming all over Draco's hand and his own slacks.

Draco opened his mouth for another smart-ass comment, and Harry lunged forward and kissed him.

Draco kissed him back with all his ordinary sweetness and surrender, and it was almost too much. "You really did like that," he said when Harry finally pulled away.

"So did you," Harry said, trying to pretend his voice wasn't shaking as he summoned his wand and cleaned them both off.

Draco nodded.

"Draco," Harry said hesitantly. "It's not---we're not just fucking. At least, I'm not."

Draco looked at him for a long time. Finally he gave Harry a small smile. "Good," he said. "Because if you leave me for the Bat Bogey Brat, I may have to take another stab at Unforgivables."

Harry thought of marrying Ginny, and the pattern that would claim their children, and a Slytherin/Gryffindor rivalry that would last until the end of time. It all seemed really far away. "I still have a Potter Stinks badge around somewhere," he said.

"Pervert," Draco said, but his smile widened and he pulled Harry down on the bed. "Happy Christmas," he said softly.


End file.
